by Delia Castel
There was only one way she could get through this without having to listen to him talk. It was something she had learned about in prison. Some of the other girls had talked about doing this with their more adventurous lovers, but Marigold could never imagine Unwin agreeing to such a thing. No matter how much she loved and trusted Berrin and Polaris, she would feel awkward to make such a suggestion. But Matheson… She narrowed her eyes, the idea of what she would do to him making her arousal spike. It wasn’t like he thought much of her anyway.
She shuffled closer to his head, and he closed his eyes, parting his lips for a kiss. Marigold suppressed a laugh. He would be kissing her lips in a moment, but not the ones he imagined.
With one lift of her hips, she straddled his head.
He gasped. “What are you doing?” The puff of his breath against her folds made her twitch, and she bit down hard on her lip to stifle a moan. “Don’t tell me you plan on—?
She lowered herself onto his face, muffling any protests or disparaging words. Matheson’s arms flailed, but she trapped his biceps under her shins, not giving him the leverage to push her off. Wriggling her backside to settle herself into a comfortable seating position, she settled her clitoris over his lips and the crevice of her buttocks against his nose.
Matheson groaned. It was a low rumble that sent a lash of heat straight between her legs. The first swipe of his tongue over her slit generated a tingle so intense, she would have fallen forward, had she not caught herself on her outstretched palms. She stared down at his erect penis, which seemed to have grown since she had first straddled him.
“I knew you would be dirty, you wanton—”
She sat up and grabbed a handful of his hair. “There’s only one use for that tongue!”
When he laughed, the vibrations traveled across her inner thighs, eliciting the most pleasant shudder. Then, he ran his tongue in a slow, deliberate motion from the base of her nub, over its peak and then down to the other side. Gasping, she gripped his hair tighter. His tongue continued the lingering pace over her folds, down to her core, the entrance of which he skimmed in a deliberate, teasing circle. He made the slow, meandering journey back up to her sensitive bundle of nerves, causing her to whimper. It annoyed her somewhat that he had managed to wrest control over the situation, but such trivialities paled when compared to the pleasure of his wicked tongue.
Sweat beaded at her brow, not being helped by the midday sun shining down on her. She squinted up at the sky, looking about for the dark blot that was Polaris, but they were watering so much, it was hard to focus.
Matheson sped up his movements, lapping at her with eager strokes over her quivering core. She sank down on him, silently urging him to open her up with his tongue. After what felt like hours of teasing, he delved into her with one, wet thrust. She clenched her muscle at the onslaught of sensations. He flattened and twisted his tongue, causing her insides to quiver and her breath to quicken.
Later his tongue ringed her anus, and her eyes shot open. “Oh!”
“Did you like that?”
She hummed, refraining from giving him a verbal answer.
A filthy laugh was his response. “You taste as good as I imagined, Princess. I love how you’re all hot and slick for m—”
“Enough talking.” She tilted her hips back to line her nub against his flattened tongue. Holding him in place by the hair, she writhed on his face, canting her hips back and forth.
Matheson’s member pulsed and leaked precum over his tight abs. The sight made her mouth water and reminded her of something else the girls at the House of Corrections had talked about. She lowered her head to his crotch and swiped her tongue over the underside of his erect penis.
He grabbed her thighs. “No!”
“Huh?” She turned around and raised her hips.
“I want to save myself for the hard riding you’re going to give me.” He pulled her down onto his face and circled her pulsing nub with his tongue.
Marigold clenched her eyes shut. He swirled round and round the sensitive bundle of nerves, each movement a circle of delight. Her lips parted, and she panted through her mouth. This angle, with her weight against his tongue, was more intense than anything she’d experienced. She clamped her hands on her thighs, not trusting her fingernails to remain blunt. Matheson’s fingers slid over her hips, over her waist, and onto her puckered nipples. He squeezed, and the muscles of her core pulsed. A breeze cooled her sweat-dampened skin, making her nerve endings tingle.
A muffled sound came from the dragon beneath her. It sounded something like ‘cum for me.’
He changed the movement of his tongue to rapid, little flicks, each sending shockwaves of pleasure through her pelvis. The sensation was so intense, her head lolled to the side. She would have wriggled away, or eased off, but his hands clamped over her hips, keeping her in place. All she could do was bear the pleasure as it mounted beyond the levels of human endurance. Her legs trembled, and her arms felt like they would collapse under her. Despite this, Matheson continued in his merciless onslaught.
Pressure built up with every flick of that relentless tongue, contracting tighter and tighter until it felt like she would explode. Then, with one deft stroke, it released an eruption of ecstasy that reached as far as her throat.
“Ah!”
She shot off his face, not being able to stand any more of his ministrations, but Matheson pulled her down onto his open mouth, letting her twitch and convulse over his tongue. His groans filled the air, making a few of the griffins take off in loud flaps of wings.
None of that mattered. That had been unexpectedly good, and she couldn’t wait to discover what Matheson could do with the purpling erection pulsing against his stomach. When her climaxed subsided, he released his grip, letting her scramble off his face.
“Oh,” she said between panting breaths. “That was—”
“Extraordinary?” He raised his brows, as though daring her to disagree.
She narrowed her eyes. The wretch didn’t look the slightest bit suffocated. “I was going to say a good start.”
Resting his palms under his head, he smirked. “Then you’ll have to take your pleasure from my cock until you’re properly sated, you lusty wench!”
Chapter 13
Berrin’s smile faded as soon as Nanny left with Buckley and Grison. He sat on the cot of his cell, resting his head in his hands, and thinking through his options. It was strange that what was once his heart’s desire—to to join Polaris in the Regiment—was now the last thing he wanted to do. Now that he had a mate, he couldn’t stand to be parted from her for any length of time. He imagined the endless stretch of months between visits and shuddered. Two days without her physical presence was bad enough. He wouldn’t survive being parted from her for longer.
Marigold popped in front of him, flushed and naked and on her knees. His heart soared.
She frowned. “It didn’t work!”
“Are you trying to connect with my brother?”
“Matheson.” She fixed her gaze on the stone floor.
His eyes widened. “Does that mean you—”
Marigold rested her hands on his knees. “Nothing has changed between us! Your uncle is looking to annul my mating with Matheson because he knows it wasn’t consummated, and I need to complete my bond with him to come into my power.”
He leaned forwards, gazing into her pretty, emerald eyes. “Are you making progress?”
“I connected with Polaris a minute ago while he was flying around Florus.”
Berrin gave her an encouraging smile. “And Matheson?”
“It might take a few more tries to form a bond with him.”
“Is he still being obnoxious?”
She tilted her head to the side, appearing to consider this. “Actually, he’s changed. Did you know he and Nanny burned down the Papaver Palace last night?”
Berrin’s jaw dropped. “I thought he liked that place.”
Marigold went on to describe how Math
eson had uncovered the identity of her mother, who had been the half-sister of Queen Reina of Igneous and a powerful sorceress of air-dragon heritage. Matheson had also visited Ella’s house to find out Uncle Hertz’ whereabouts. Throughout her report, he couldn’t help thinking how much his older brother had matured.
She furrowed her brows. “Matheson’s trying to get my attention. If we can work out where your uncle’s hiding, Polaris can drag him to the dueling pits and get rid of him for good. If that doesn’t overturn your arrest, then we’re going after the High Sheriff.”
Berrin nodded, and Marigold tilted her head up to press her lips on his before disappearing.
The impression of her kiss lingered, and her disappearance left an empty spot in the heart that was once overflowing. He shook his head. It seemed silly to feel left out when Marigold checked in on him several times a day. Normally, he would worry about her with Matheson, but after seeing Uncle Hertz’ horrific display of violence, he could never believe that Matheson had colluded with the older dragon to abduct Marigold.
He pulled himself to his feet and turned to Nanny’s basket.
“You won’t be needing food where you’re going, fledgling,” said a cold voice.
His head snapped up. The High Sheriff stood outside his bars, arms folded.
Berrin clenched his teeth. “Am I leaving?”
“You’re going to the Tower of Torment.”
“Without a trial?” The words tumbled out of his mouth. The Tower of Torment was where monsters like the King’s Inquisitors carried out their grizzly tasks. Few crimes were bad enough to warrant the one-way trip to the tower, and certainly not cuckolding one’s own brother who hadn’t even pressed charges. He clenched the basket, making its fibers snap. This had to be Uncle Hertz’ doing. If he wanted to annul Matheson’s bonding with Marigold on the grounds that it wasn’t consummated, then he would destroy Berrin’s with a trumped-up execution.
The High Sheriff’s eyes glinted like light reflecting off the blade of a sword. “We trialed you in absentia and found you guilty of numerous counts of cuckolding.”
Berrin’s heart exploded in his chest. His hands released the basket, which fell back onto the table. That couldn’t be right. It was Festival Week. Such trials didn’t take place during the holidays unless it was for a serious matter like trying to murder the King. And they never happened when the accused was already arrested! He scrambled for something to say. “You didn’t give me the opportunity to defend myself.”
“What kind of defense would you have mounted?” The High Sheriff shook his head, lips curving into a smile. “I saw the evidence of your illicit encounter with your brother’s mate.”
Berrin backed away, not stopping until his spine hit the stone wall of the cell. “B-but we have a haremage!”
“Impossible.” The older dragon motioned for the forensic wizards to open the doors. “A haremage cannot be complete without all brothers or brothers-in-arms. Since General Auburn’s betrothal to Princess Snowdrop precludes such an arrangement, a haremage is invalid.”
Sweat formed beneath Berrin’s collar, and he shuffled back to the corner of his cell. “There are exceptions. I learned about them in my academy.”
“Which only apply when the dragon is aged twenty-one or older.” His eyes turned as hard as steel. “Do not compound your crimes by resisting your transfer. There is a reason why fledglings must wait until the required age before coming into their powers. An impulsive, young dragon like you is a danger to all.”
“But Uncle Hertz is under investigation—”
“It matters not. You broke the law.” The sheriff shook his head. “If your father were alive, he would be ashamed. Now, there was a dragon who adhered to the letter of the law.”
Berrin bristled. Father never paid enough attention to him to show anything but cool disinterest. “The King’s Regiment has offered me a place.”
“I have received no correspondence to that effect,” replied the Sheriff.
“Send the headquarters a swift or contact my brother. Either of them will confirm the offer.”
He advanced on Berrin, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Your wing clipping is scheduled for midnight tonight.” There was a breathiness to his voice that made the hairs on the back of Berrin’s neck stand on end. “If you do not come out now and without a fuss, my wizards will stun you, and your next conscious breath will be as a eunuch.”
Berrin clenched his teeth. If he didn’t stay awake, he would have no way to alert Marigold of his new circumstances. Straightening, and putting as much dignity as he could muster into his voice, he said, “I will come with you.”
The High Sheriff’s eyes dropped to his crotch. “Good boy.”
Berrin’s new accommodations were a short walk down Rex Boulevard. The cherry trees in full blossom provided a fragrant canopy, making a pattern of dappled sunlight on the paving stones. Two wizards marched to his front and another two at his back. The High Sheriff walked at his side, breathing hard.
“You know,” said the official. “It’s dragons like you who are ruining our females.”
“If I were truly guilty, you would have scheduled my trial for next week, when everyone returns from the holidays.”
“I have a friend who has a mate in name only. The she-dragon does whatever she wishes, thanks to selfish, young bucks like you!”
Berrin shrank away from the older dragon. He didn’t want to ask about this ‘friend,’ in case the conversation led to something worse than ranting. He walked in silence, blocking out the High Sheriff’s tirade about unmated swines cuckolding respectable dragons who had paid hefty bride prices for their mates.
Giving his head a minute shake, he stared into the cobbles of the empty roads. If Marigold’s maternal grandfather had still been alive, he would never have gotten the chance to make her acquaintance.
Minutes later, the wizards in front turned into a narrow road that later widened into a paved square housing a single building. Berrin shuddered. The Tower of Torment was one of the oldest structures in the whole of Igneous, dating back from the time of the fairies. Fabricated from ancient sandstone bricks, it stood three stories high with corner towers stretching six stories. From the history books, he knew that each tower represented one of the four elements: earth, fire, air, and water. Arched windows, too small for an escape route, adorned the building. He wondered if that was to prevent a dragon from flying up and snatching a comrade.
They stepped through the heavy, iron doors into a courtyard, and the High Sheriff announced, “Put him in the lowest basement of the Earth tower.”
Berrin swallowed. “But the towers don’t have any basements.”
“None that we wish to make public,” replied the other dragon with a snicker.
The words made Berrin’s stomach turn. They implied that he would not leave the tower in a state to be able to talk about the secret basements. He let the alarm show on his face, as he didn’t want to make the High Sheriff or the wizards aware of his alternative means of disseminating information. “My family will likely visit at some point during the day. How will you explain my absence?”
He raised a shoulder. “Such visits are at the discretion of the head of the Sheriff Court, and the family of one suspected of treason cannot receive free passage in my domain.”
“What did my family ever do to warrant such treatment?”
“Why don’t you ask your brother and his princeling friend?” he sneered.
Berrin’s lips pressed together. That could either mean Matheson and Prince Indigo, or Polaris and Prince Carmine, who sometimes sparred with the Regiment. The other dragon could drop as many hints as he liked. Berrin didn’t care enough for puerile gossip. The sheriff’s petty plans would not work, because he had two brothers and a mate who would help him.
The wizards opened the doors, leading him into a stone vestibule ending in a staircase. Instead of going up, they raised their staffs and opened up a wall that revealed a darkened hallway. The staffs
of the two wizards in front provided enough illumination for their journey, and they walked down a spiral staircase that felt like three stories underground. With each step, the temperature dropped, until he found his teeth chattering. Berrin studied as much of his surroundings as he could, to pass on the information to Marigold when she next popped in to visit.
At the bottom of the staircase, they opened another wall with their magic. It revealed a well-appointed lounge, complete with a crackling fire. The scent of roasted chicken filled his nostrils, and Berrin’s gaze went to the platter of food sitting on a desk. He gasped. He’d expected a dank dungeon, not a study that would put Father’s to shame.
“Inside, please, Lord Dragon,” murmured one of the wizards. The tone of his voice was apologetic.
Berrin stepped through the doorway into the warm room, nausea twisting his stomach. It looked like he was walking into his final supper before execution.
“Over here, please.” The wizard gestured to a sofa.
He stood next to it, and the wizards raised their staffs. Stone from the walls curved over the rectangle of space around the sofa, encasing both him and the long, leather seat in bars made of rock.
His shoulders slumped, and he stared at the steaming platter, not quite understanding its purpose. It wasn’t as if he would have eaten anything from his jailers. They could have laced it with a poison that would make him sleep through his castration… and whatever else they would do to him to render him harmless.
“Thank you, Gentle Wizards,” said an irritating voice. Uncle Hertz strode in through the door, dressed in a sombre, black doublet and matching breeches. He pulled out a high-backed mahogany chair and sat at the desk. “Please see to the next stage of my plan.”
They inclined their heads and backed out of the room.
Berrin clenched his teeth. “What are you scheming, Uncle?”
He opened up a writing box. “I wish to remind your young lady of my proposal.”